


A Dangerous Dream

by FujurPreux



Category: Gravity Falls, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Post-Book 15: Skin Game, Post-Gravity Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:38:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12623376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujurPreux/pseuds/FujurPreux
Summary: A conman, a scientist, a wizard, and a genius loci team up to stop an abomination. A.K.A. The older set of Pine Twins wander into Demonreach.





	A Dangerous Dream

The _Stan O’ War-_ _I_ _sh V_ was about to sink. For real.

On the plus side, the _Stan O’ War-_ _I_ _sh_ series were the provisional boats Stan and his brother used whenever their adventures took them to inland bodies of water big enough to sail in, not the one they were more attached to. That would be the _Stan O’ War II_. On the less than stellar side, both Stans were on board during the storm and the lake was freezing. They wouldn’t survive it if things came to worse.

“Oh, if only _someone_ had thought of bringing lifeboats instead of all that fancy equipment!” Stan yelled over the roaring wind as he manned the ship the best he could.

Ford grunted as he covered the aforementioned equipment with canvas now that he had secured it to the mast. He wore a pair of goggles over his glasses which, knowing him, were also highly advanced tech.

“I will not dignify that with an answer!” Ford said, which meant he didn’t have one.

“You are so singing the _Stan Wrong Song_ once we’re back to Chicago!”

Ford remained silent, his flinching saying he would. He had no choice. The brothers made each other sing and dance that song whenever possible, preferably in front of the most famous landmark available. They taped it and sent the videos to Mabel and Dipper in lieu of postcards. Dipper didn’t comment much, but Mabel continued to be thrilled for having come up with a song that worked for both her grunkles.

Anyway, she would get yet another video for her collection if they made it out of this.

The weather had been clear when they arrived to Chicago, but even then, the decision to replace the weight of the lifeboats with all those machines hadn’t been the smartest move. Yet, Stanhad never expected Ford to be smart; he was just a genius after all. Sometimes he wondered how his brother had survived all those years on his own. He must’ve gotten a great deal of help at every step. Interesting, since he wasn’t the charismatic one of the pair. But nerds had a way to communicate with each other, as Ford’s relationship with Dipper had proven. Regardless, Stan was thankful for it; it helped him to get his brother back.

The Pine twins – nowadays the _older_ set of Pine twins – had traveled all the way there to study the ley lines that converged in the area. Ford’s thingamabobs were designed to identify and measure them. Well, if Stan had learned anything in his thirty years in Gravity Falls was that if no one saw a storm this size coming, it meant the lay lines didn’t want to be studied. Or someone didn’t want them to study the lines. Or it might as well be a cosmic coincidence, but those were rare.

“We should go back,” he ventured, even when he knew it would be pointless. But he had to try.

“What? With all the trouble we went through to get this equipment? Of course not!”

“Alright, alright,” Stan replied and then muttered under his breath, “But don’t complain when I save _you_ instead of your machines when we inevitably sink.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

The rain became more and more intense with every second, and the wind blew harder and harder. The lake, agitated, shook them the way Mabel did to unsuspecting paper boats when she played Merciless Goddess of the Sea in the pool. Stan looked up to the clouds, half expecting to hear his grandniece’s mischievous laughter and see that expression she used to have whenever she went full megalomaniac.

Oh, how Stan missed that kid.

But no, no giant Mabel up there. No giant anyone, actually. Luckily. Just the vastness of clouds in a dark shade of gray, and Stan knew that any face he may see up there would be his imagination. But he had plenty of imagination so, with a shudder, he brought his attention back to the boat and to the task of ensuring his brother’s survival.

“There!” Ford called from the prow and pointing ahead, a few degrees to starboard. “Over there! There’s an island!”

Stan grunted. “How far off course are we?” he asked. “The map showed no islands in this area! Ugh, whatever.”

He squinted to look ahead. He couldn’t see that island, not yet, but he trusted his brother.

Following Ford’s instructions, Stan steered the _Stan O’ War-_ _I_ _sh V_ to the island. He would check the map and calculate their position once they were there.

As they got closer, the wind and the storm calmed down just enough so they could make port. Instead, a thick fog rose surrounded them.

“Wonderful,” Stan grumbled.

“It’s fine. I detected a pier with the goggles,” Ford replied. “I’ll guide us there.”

“Aye, aye... knew it!” Stan said, only to giggle in secret at his own pun.

Nevertheless, thanks to those goggles was how they arrived to port in one piece, fog and all.

Stan jumped overboard and ran to kiss the sand with as much drama as possible.

Ford sighed but went right into business. “Stanley, let’s take my equipment to shelter.”

“Oh, no. No no no no no. I’m tying the _Stan O’ War-_ _I_ _sh_ to the pier and then _**we**_ can take _ourselves_ to shelter. Brother, if you didn’t make that equipment water proof,” he said as a response to Ford’s pout, “I’ll eat my hat.”

Ford pouted harder for a second before he made the tips of his thumbs touch each other while raising the index fingers to form a W. “In Dipper’s wise words: whatever. Let’s tie that ship.”

“Mabel does that too,” Stan replied, but started his way back to the pier.

When they finished their work, the fog deigned itself to become less depressing and lift just enough to let them see the ruins of a town along the shoreline. A ghost town, by the looks of it, but a roof was a roof and, under those circumstances, any chance to escape the rain was welcome.

The brothers ventured inside the first house ready to take off their raincoats and look for something – anything – to start a fire but what they found was a dry and clean place, furnished with two rustic beds, a rustic table with a basket with bread and fruit, and some towels. Next to the chimney, dry wood waited to be thrown in there to transform a pile of embers into a cozy fire.

As they exchanged looks, they heard a voice.

“The Warden would not have wished for you to die of exposure. Thus, I honor his wishes by welcoming you in this place until the storm is over. Then, you must depart. Under no circumstance you are allowed beyond the limits of the town. That is all.”

“Nice surround system,” Stan said. “Felt it in my bones and all.”

“I’m not sure that came from any kind of speaker,” Ford replied.He took off his raincoat. “Ah, well, it could be worse.”

“Totes. There are way worse hosts out there,” Stan said, hurrying to feed the fire.

They stripped down to their underwear, putting their clothes to dry next to the chimney. Next, they did the same for themselves, covered with the towels. Said towels, while not new, were notoriously fluffy.

Once they were warmer and had eaten the fruit and the bread, Stan and Ford took a deep breath in relief and remained in peaceful silence. For about one second or two.

“So,” Stan said, “who – or what – do you reckon that voice was?”

Ford scratched his chin. “Frankly, it could be anything from a highly advanced telepathic being to a genius loci. Given the geographical circumstances and based on previous experience, though, my money is on the latter.”

Stan scratched his own chin and nodded. “Yeah, now that you mention it, it sounds reasonable.”

“You know what a genius loci is?” Ford asked, eyebrows raised, an expression that said he expected his brother to ask, which made Stan feel good about himself.

“Duh! I made up one once for a patch of flowers in the back of the Shack once. A hit with the tourists.”

Ford scoffed, although good-naturedly. “Should’ve seen it coming.”

Stan grinned. “As long as the tourists didn’t.”

They laughed together. It was amazing to do all of this in each other’s company, just as they had planned when they were kids. Stan felt so grateful for the opportunity to have that all these weird adventures around the world, no matter how dangerous.

“I am worried about this Warden person,” Ford said as he nibbled on an apple.

“Why? He wants us alive and gone. Frankly, I want that for myself too. For ourselves,” he corrected.

“Think, Stanley. What does a warden do?”

“They – uh… guard prisoners…?” As Stan spoke, the reality of the situation dawned on him and his expression changed. “Oh.”

“Precisely. Taking into account the amount and strength of the ley lines reported in this area, this is the spot I would choose to keep all kind of abominations under lock and key.” He made a pause for effect before he continued. “This island is a prison, Stan. Hence the need for a warden – and to keep it hidden. I trust your navigation skills, brother. With my life. Actually, I do it every day. If you say there is no island in this area, I believe you!”

It was hard for Stan not to get all weepy whenever Ford made such declarations, so he tried to deflect it by clearing his throat and placing the palm of his hand on his chest. “Moved as I am by your words, Stanford, this all just reinforces my resolve to get out of here asap.”

Ford grumbled for a second and then folded his arms, pressing them against his chest. “Yes. I have already unleashed enough demons in our tangible reality, I guess. We can skip this one.”

“Atta boy,” Stan said, patting his brother on the back. He felt relieved. No matter how much he might have wanted to leave, he would’ve stayed if Ford had insisted.

All they had to do now, then, was to wait for the storm to end.

Or for lighting to hit the _Stan O’ War-_ _I_ _sh V_ until it caught fire.

The brothers heard the bang, but once on the pier, there was nothing they could do but watch their ship’s improvised viking funeral as the water current took it away.

“So, the rope wasn’t as sturdy as we’d hoped,” Ford said as Stan felt the urge to place his fez against his chest to present his respects. Sadly, it was in his hotel room back in the city. “Ah. At least nothing else caught fire.”

“Don’t jinx it, Ford.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Yet, Ford was right. Nothing else was was on fire and, adding to the silver lining, the Pines had gone through worse, both together and on their own.

“Alright,” Stan said. “Time to test that genius loci theory.” He turned around and yelled at the forest, using his hands as a megaphone. “Hey! Mr. Disembodied Voice! It seems we’re staying for a little longer than expected! And it’s not our fault!”

Something stirred in the blackness, and the wind that rustled the leaves sounded like a sigh.

“I’ll contact the Warden,” the voice said. “Go back to the house.”

“I take it that we’re still barred from going beyond the limits of the town, huh,” Stand said as he started to walk.

“I should certainly think so,” Ford replied, following his brother.

Neither of them said it, but they were fine with that idea after their resolution of not meddling with whatever the island kept prisoner. Besides, thunder kept hitting the higher places; staying outside would be unnecessarily risky. The Pines would feel better once they were back under a roof.

When they were a few yards from the house, a particularly strong lighting bolt hit something in the middle of the island. Then, another one, on the exact same spot. Both times, the ground shook like an explosion.

“Hurry to the house!” the voice said, more imperative and urgent than before. “Lock yourselves inside and don’t come out! For your own safety!”

At that precise moment, Stan knew what was coming. Ford would take this as a technicality and go explore under the excuse of helping. He needed to be faster and drag him inside before he could say a word. Yet, as Ford was about to open his mouth and Stan raised his hand to reach for his brother’s arm, the sound of stomping came to them from the other side of the town, through the mist. It sounded like a lone, four-legged creature, but it would be impossible to tell for sure until they saw it. And then it may be too late. Too late to react. Too late to get out of the way. Too…

“Ugh, one of those,” Ford said, interrupting Stan’s train of thought. He had put those goggles on again and stared right at the mist – through the mist. “Last time, it took a team of twenty people six months to defeat it, and by the end, there were only five of us left.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Stan said. “For so many reasons.”

“It’s only a shadow. A dream,” the voice of the island said. “It was dreaming particularly loudly tonight. Too loudly even for this time of the year.”

“And the lighting knew where to hit, didn’t it?” Ford said, now rummaging through the inner pockets of his coat. He’d never be surprised by anything without some kind of weapon at hand.

Unsurprising, with the life he led for three decades, Stan thought with a mix of admiration, sadness, and regret.

The rumble – the creature – had slowed down, but it continued to get closer and closer.

“We should get into the house,” Stan said.

Ford shook his head. “It’s taking its time to trample all the buildings on its way. If we do that, we’ll be walking into a deadly trap.”

Stan sighed in resignation, but then he straightened his back and cracked his knuckles. Time to prove why he was the muscle of this team. “What do we do, then?”

“Go to the forest, I’ll handle this while the Warden arrives,” the voice of the island said, although this time it came from a tall figure in a black cloak that had materialized from who knew where. “He’ll be here soon.”

“We’ll help,” Ford said. “It’s the least we can do. Besides, I already know its kind’s weak spots. Can’t be much different here. Only weaker.”

“Weaker is great news, if you ask me,” Stan said.

“Are you a wizard?” the figure in black asked to Ford. “An archmage?”

“Better than that.” Ford folded his arms and raised his chin with pride. “I’m a scientist.”

The figure and Ford then stared at each other for a long time, measuring each other.

“Huh, guys,” Stan said, getting between the two. “I hate to do this because while you’re distracted I could just run away and get out of what’s-its-face’s way, which, honestly, shows my level of commitment, but the thing’s _is_ approaching, you know?”

The figure sighed and it again sounded like leaves rustled by the wind. “What are the prisoner’s weak spots?” he asked, again addressing Ford.

“The base of the tail, the inside of the mouth, and the center of its eyes,” Ford replied without skipping a beat, and then he showed a pair of gun-like weapons he liked to carry around that looked enough like toys to fool most custom officers around the world. “A ray of accelerated particles at the right frequency will do the trick.”

The figure nodded. “That is correct, scientist.” He examined the weapons. “I will allow it. I’ll distract the prisoner’s dream so you can attack. Together, we may even subdue the prisoner. That way, you would have paid for our hospitality, and we would be even.”

“Wait. No one said we’d have to pay for anything!” Stan said.

“It’s irrelevant now, Stanley. Our current priority is to stop the creature,” Ford said, handing his brother one of the weapons.

“Fine,” Stan replied, taking it. “But next time I want to know about these things in advance, okay?”

“Go in from each side,” the figure said. “I’ll face the prisoner head on to distract him.”

The Pines nodded and, with a final look at each other, they went on their own ways, ready to strike.

The rain had stopped, along with the lightning. The fog, created by the island, became their ally, engulfing them and providing them protection. They might still come up victorious. Ford had seem sure of it, and Stan did not have any reason not to believe him.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

Harry Dresden woke up with the vague memory of a dream about the importance of taking care of the elderly and the urgent prodding of Demonreach warning him about a breach in the island.

“Fuuu – uuudge, no!” he exclaimed as he sat up, reminding himself at the last moment he now shared a home with an impressionable little girl. His very own impressionable little girl, which tripled the need of fudge in his life.

Except… this wasn’t his home, and Maggie was nowhere to be found. After an initial rush of panic, he remembered that it had been movie night at the Carpenters’. She got sad whenever she missed it, so her dad did his best to take her every week. That particular night, Harry had dropped her off there only to be kidnapped a couple of blocks later. Because, yes, he remembered that now. The ambush with the ogres, the lack of time to react, and then the blackness that had lasted until then.

Harry was lying on the ground, surrounded by ritualistically carved pillars in an otherwise empty room lit by torches. On the plus side, though, he could see a wooden door on the far right, and nothing hindered his movements. There were no ropes, no wards, no barriers. He felt drowsy, though, as if his blood was heavy. Whoever had done this had counted on him staying unconscious.

Well, surprise!

The wizard got up slowly. He didn’t feel stiff, which meant he couldn’t have been there for too long. Good news at last.

The information Demonreach had left in his mind came to the forefront and he started to process it. To his relative relief, it could have been a lot worse. A figment was better than the real deal, but it would be dangerous to leave it unchecked. So all he needed to do now was to get out from there and go to the island to handle the crisis. Piece of cake.

How many ogres had those been again?

Worse yet, he didn’t have his blasting rod nor his staff with him. Only the duster and the shield bracelet. Although to be fair, that was better than nothing.

He took out a step outside the pillars, toward the door. At that moment, the torches went off, leaving him in the darkness.

“Of course,” he said, and he muttered a spell to ignite a fire ball on his hand. It provided less light, but it was light. Again, better than nothing.

As Harry approached the door, however, he heard voices on the other side. Yelling, even.

“What do you mean the lightning stopped?” someone said.

“I lost it! I can’t see the master’s resting place anymore! Maybe the wizard woke up?”

“He – he couldn’t have! I paid good money so he wouldn’t! All we had! The last ogre left one hour ago!”

“Maybe next time ask for a warranty,” Harry said as he kicked down the door and walked in to the next room, hoping his entrance had been as dramatic as he felt it.

Judging by the faces of these people, it had.

They were two men and two women, all of them young and dressed in tacky robes with hoods that screamed ‘Baby’s First Cult.’ It was… kind of cute, actually.

After a moment of awkward silence, the shortest of the men, who wore a purple quartz as a pendant around his neck, raised a more awkward hand and threw a bolt of lightning toward Harry. The wizard’s reflexes kicked in; he raised his shield, deflecting the attack.

What followed was a collective dumbfounded look. None of the cultists had expected that to work.

“Ugh, don’t be adorable,” Harry said.

The way they all turned to look at the pendant gave Harry enough clues about the source of that magic. He threw the ball of fire in his hand so it passed between them, without hurting them. Once they were distracted, Harry ran toward them to take the pendant away, from the cultist’s neck to his pocket, like the disappointed father taking away a toy he usually felt like whenever he dealt with these kind of novices. Then, before they could react, he proceeded to pluck exactly one hair from each of their heads, which he also put in his pocket.

“I don’t have time for this now, so you will stay here until I get back so we can have a long, long talk about what just happened, alright? If anyone, or all of you leave, I will be able to track you with these, and, believe me, the results would be even less pretty.” He made a pause for effect and then he asked, “Got it?”

Four heads nodded in unison.

“Good,” Harry said as he moved to grab all the old-looking books in the room he could find. Just in case. “Now sit down and think about what you’ve done. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

With that, Harry left the building and looked for a good spot where to open a portal. He had wasted enough time already, and he still needed to get his gear before going to Demonreach. A shortcut through the Nevernever would have to do. He didn’t have time to ask for reinforcements, either, and he didn’t have any clue of what he would find there, so he’d have to trust he himself and Demonrach would be enough for the task.

Once he had his blasting rod in one hand in the other, before making the final jump, Harry took a deep breath and prepared himself for anything.

Except for what he actually saw.

The actual scene was like the epic climax of the B-est B movie ever. Two old men were shooting at the dream-figment-thing, one from the street of the ghost town and the other from a roof, all while Demonreach hit it from the front, not giving it a chance to hit back. Rarely did Harry feel the need to have a camera with him. Worse yet, they were doing a great job keeping it under control. But it was Harry’s job to end the menace, so he entered the fray – after a quick apology for having taken so long.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

“Yeah, that’s on me,” the famous Warden, who had introduced himself as Harry, said as Ford’s guns sparkled and made weird noises. On the plus side, the dream creature had already been vanquished, so there would be no more need for them for the time being.

Ford turned off both weapons and put them back in their holsters. “Wizards,” he said in resignation.

Said wizard raised both hands and shrugged one shoulder as he smiled an appeasing smile. “Guilty.”

“That thing you did with the fire was neat,” Stan said. “Do you think I can learn it at my age?”

“It… usually takes a while to do that,” Harry said.

“Years, Stanley!” Ford said. “Years of tagging along behind him. Of doing all kinds of menial jobs like all wizard apprentices do. All while there is a world out waiting to be seen.”

Ford sounded like his usual grumpy self, but there was the smallest hint of fear underneath that Stan only caught because he knew his brother that well.

Stan folded his arms and answered just as grumpily. “I would if you had the slightest chance of surviving without me, brother. As things are, I’d better keep an eye on you.”

Ford relaxed but he distracted everyone from that fact by pulling the lapels of his coat and grunting. “As you wish, _brother_.”

And everything went back to be well in the world.

“Anyway,” Harry said. “Thank you for helping us contain the danger. Demonreach told me what happened with your boat.”

“Ah, it’s fine. It was insured,” Stan said.

“We still need a ride back to the mainland, though,” Ford said.

Harry grew serious. “Who says you get to go, after you’ve found out about the existence of this place?” He raised his hands defensively again when Ford reached for his weapons. “Kidding, kidding!” he hurried to say. Then, he cleared his throat. “Truth is, though, that you must take an oath of never talking about this island, never writing about this island, and basically never communicating anything about this island in any way I’ve not included here. In return, I won’t ask you about those… gun-thingies.”

Stan shrugged. “Can do.”

Ford nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Alright, then,” Harry said. “Let’s get going. I have to make some phone calls and then take care of an unfinished business with some kids. Follow me, stay close, and step only where I do.”

With that, he opened a portal with a hand gesture. No need for an elaborate machine nor build up the energy nor reversing gravity. Just a hand gesture and it was done.

 _Wizards_ , as Ford had put it.

Speaking of Ford, he remained still for a long moment, staring at the portal, all tensed up again, not daring to take the first step.

Stan put a hand on his twin’s shoulder.

“Come on, Ford. A whole world out there to explore together, remember?” He tightened his grip. “And this time I won’t let go.”

Ford smiled a little smile and nodded and patted Stan’s hand. “Yes. Come on.”

And thus, they followed the wizard back to Chicago through the land of Fairy – which, all in all, turned out it wasn’t even the weirdest shortcut they had ever taken.


End file.
